


Of Valour and Virtue

by bimmykimmy



Category: Voltron: Legendary Defender
Genre: Alternate Universe - Medieval, Blacksmith Hunk (Voltron), Friends to Lovers, Knight Keith (Voltron), M/M, Other Additional Tags to Be Added
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-03-20
Updated: 2019-03-20
Packaged: 2019-11-26 02:05:54
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 6,829
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18174410
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/bimmykimmy/pseuds/bimmykimmy
Summary: Training to become an anointed knight is not all that satisfying if it means leaving your childhood best friend behind. It doesn't help when said friend adamantly refuses to do anything less than support you.[rated M for violence and sexual content in later chapters]





	1. Prologue

::

 

The sun begins to dip lower onto the horizon. Its purple and orange hues paint the skyline with a promise of a fair morning. Laughter echoes into this sky, frightening off a pair of birds when three sets of boots tramp and stamp in a race across a field. Their game has gone on well throughout the day, and their mothers will no doubt be equal parts worried and cross by the time they return to their homes.

“Aw come on,” one boy cries out, his breath heavy and his forehead damp with sweat. He slows to a jog, grip slipping on his wooden sword just enough that it dips into the dirt and leaves a jagged trail as he moves. “Can’t we just give up?”

“Knights don’t give up, Hunk,” another boy with sly eyes and a grin that’s missing teeth slaps Hunk on the shoulder as he runs past. “You want to be a knight don’t you? Let’s go! We’ve got to find that flag. We can’t let Keith win _again_ ,” he looks over his shoulder, smiling wide and nodding his head encouragingly.

“I’ve already won,” a soft tenor calls out from above them. Sitting in a branch and smiling down at his friends, a bright boy kicks his legs playfully and waves. Tied to a branch next to him is a small purple piece of cloth shifting lazily in the slight breeze. “Haa!!” Before the two have a chance to react, Keith jumps down and bonks them both with his own wooden sword. Lance is the first to strike back, lunging toward Keith and letting out an impressive battle cry. They toss and tumble, adding metallic sound effects over the clatter of wood on wood, while their melee battle commences. Lance may have been the first to strike, but he is also the first to be disarmed by Keith. His sword flings off into some thick brush. He stumbles over his feet, reeling backward and falls, giving his tunic a rather nasty grass stain. He grumbles with a pout but Keith pays him no mind. He’s already off to the other contender who has made his way halfway up the tree. Hunk hoists himself up onto a branch, legs kicking out under him as he struggles a bit. Keith grins and slowly walks over to him, standing beneath with a fist on his hip and the other raising his wooden sword to rest playfully on his shoulder.

“Think you can make it?” he calls out and squints upward. He shifts easily out of the way of falling bark which Hunk’s climbing dislodges. In his mind, the debris is the size of boulders and he valiantly dodges their destructive paths. 

“Of— _hhfng!!_ Of course I can!” Hunk huffs and doesn’t look down at his taunter as he lifts one leg to another adjacent branch, spreading himself so wide it causes Keith to cringe in sympathetic pain. It doesn’t seem to bother Hunk though, and he continues his daring ascent. “I’m the—the best climber out of all of us.”

“Yeah and since when do knights need to climb trees?” Lance calls out from his new seat in the grass. He lets go of a handful he’d picked and it flies off, caught in the wind.

Keith glares at Lance but quickly looks back up at Hunk who’s already stretching for the flag. “Ah- _hah!”_ Hunk yells as he reaches over and snatches it from its perch. “I win!” He laughs triumphantly but it is cut short when he looks down as sees Keith grinning again, some parts proud some parts smug.

“Did you?” Keith asks with a playful lean forward.

“Huh?” Hunk looks down at the fabric in his tight grip and it’s nothing but a ripped up piece of cloth, most likely from one of Lady Kogane's handmaiden’s dresses. It certainly isn’t Keith’s handmade banner donning the Kogane family crest. He groans in frustration and now it’s Keith’s turn to laugh.

“Better luck next time boys,” Keith says as he pretends to sheath his sword by simply tucking it under his belt. He saunters over to Lance who’s lying down at this point; staring up at the slowly appearing stars as the sky begins to bleed darker hues. Defeated, Hunk climbs most of the way down before jumping off a low branch and walks over to join his friends. He picks a twig or two out of his hair as he sits down closely next to Keith who glances at him in secret.

“My mother once told me the future is written in the stars,” Lance says after a moment.

“What is that supposed to mean?” Keith asks quirking an eyebrow.

“It means if we look hard enough, we can see what we’ll be when we’re older,” Hunk leans a bit closer, lifting his arm to point up at the sky. Keith’s lips press into a thin line and he shifts a little, but it goes unnoticed. “That one there, that’s me! And that one over there is you, Lance.”

“Keith, yours is that one,” Lance says with a snort of a laugh as he points to the moon that’s finally made its appearance in the highest, darkest point in the sky. It’s nearly dusk, _and_ nearly time for them all to return to their very, very different homes.

Keith flushes in embarrassment, gaze falling to his calloused hands in his lap as he begins to pick at the hardened, raised skin. “N-no it’s not.”

“Of course it is Keith,” Hunk adds happily. “You’re of noble birth! All nobles have the brightest futures in the entire sky! Grandma used to tell me stories all the time. Nothing shines brighter than the moon.”

“The sun does,” Keith says as he looks up at Hunk through dark lashes, expression set. Hunk’s eyes narrow softly in surprised confusion, an equally soft pout pursing his lips. Without breaking that steadfast gaze, Hunk's hand slowly moves to his wooden sword, turning it around so the crudely drawn--and equally fake--crest points upward. A sun is carved into the wood, mostly made of straight lines and uneven divots. 

“I don’t want to be a knight!” Lance’s sudden declaration recaptures the two young boy’s attentions and they blink toward him in surprise. Lance sits up, lifting his arms to mime holding a bow and arrow. “I’m gonna join the royal army! I’ll be the best archer this side of the kingdom has ever seen! _And_ I'll woo the princess!”

Hunk laughs loudly, full of warmth, and he brings his arm around Keith’s shoulder and pulls him in tightly. His wooden sword is forgotten in the soft grass. “Then I guess it’s just you and me, Keith! We’ll be the strongest, most loyal knights ever.”

Although Keith’s eyes are downcast, his smile is unmistakable.

This play-pretend is their favorite game for years. They make believe in the fields, outside the cobblestone walls surrounding the town, or by the stream. They’d see a brigade of horses and a carriage travel by. They see the colors flying of a knight, striding by as their stallion’s hooves grind into the pathway and their armor glints in the sun.

Their afternoons usually end like this; the three of them sitting as equals, friends with dreams of grandeur.

 

 

::

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> what's that? you ask why am I starting another fic when I've still got two unfinished fics to work on?  
> sorry suddenly i cant speak english


	2. Summons

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A childhood dream comes true and Keith is anything but happy about it.

::

 

Taking the oath does not scare him. Swearing blood and life under one band of colors, one house and king, does not scare him. The long grueling hours of endless training, the ultimate threats of danger that would greet him at any moment do not scare him.

Telling Hunk, however, terrifies him.

Keith holds the summons in his hand, the soft parchment curls in his palm and the red wax seal crumbles a bit where he’d broken it. He has been a squire for what seemed like a lifetime. He figured he would be one forever. Months of trailing behind Sir Shirogane simply melded into routine. Mucking out the horse stalls, polishing armor, mundane tasks he would easily accept as lifetime commitments. Despite his mother saying otherwise, the thought of moving forward has never _truly_ crossed his mind. Until now.

“Congratulations, Keith,” Shiro claps him on the shoulder, his strong hand giving it a small squeeze. The leather of his glove squeaks a bit as he releases, stepping away and resting his hand back on the hilt of his sword. “Your father would be proud.”

Keith cannot respond. His throat feels tight, a concoction of different emotion swirling in his stomach. His hesitance must be apparent on his face because Shiro brings his hand once again to Keith’s shoulder.

“You don’t have to accept it right now.” His voice is calm, steady. “Take it home and let it sink in. I’ll see you tomorrow morning, all right?”

Shiro lets Keith leave early, parting with more words of encouragement and a hearty smack on the back that sends Keith reeling forward. It isn’t surprising that he’s _more_ than excited for Keith; any honorable knight wants to see their squire climb toward better things. Shiro is nothing if not honorable. Keith owes him a lot, especially now that he’d obviously put in a good word for Keith. No doubt he pledged for Keith’s acceptance into training under King Alfor’s banner. Ever since Lord Kogane’s death, Keith has a developed a reputation that does not bode well for aspiring knights, regardless of how much money and esteem is attached to his house’s name. Apparently, Shiro’s own reputation and good rapport with the king is his final boot in the door.

Keith looks down at the parchment once again as he makes his way through the village. His mind is a bit hazy, drowning in an endless stream of thoughts and worries. Even in his distracted state, Keith effortlessly maneuvers his way through the bustling walkways. The village is filled with busy merchants, frazzled serfs, and the occasional group of kids chasing each other. The latter practically bulldozes into Keith, but he avoids their rambunctiousness (and swinging sticks fashioned to be swords much like he used to) with an easy step to the side. Curious eyes glance up at him every once in a while, watching him. Their stares,and sometimes glares, are nothing new. He stands out even though he carefully changes into less than vibrant clothing and has visited the outer village his entire life. It’s simply the reality of his heritage.

It doesn’t take him long before he’s standing just outside that all too familiar timber accented abode. The tall beams stretch against the ashen sides, tucking under the high peaked roof. It’s an old building; worn down and well lived in. Its familiar outline is stark against the late afternoon sky, a small billow of smoke cascading upward from just behind it.

“Working late again, huh?” Keith says under his breath and a smile touches his lips. He rounds the building, following the well warn path to the small extension on the side. He can already feel the heat radiating from the blaring coals.

Hunk’s back is turned when Keith reaches the forge. So, he takes a moment to lean against one of the old posts and smile. Keith has always enjoyed watching him work. He zones out and moves like a man possessed. It’s mesmerizing really. Hunk pulls the orange hot metal from the kiln and hammers it so hard the sparks fly way past the benches. It’s like watching little stars zip into the air; quickly flickering into nothingness.

There is a moment’s pause, Hunk takes a breather and wipes the sweat from his brow with his forearm.

“You’ve been pretty busy with orders lately.”

“Keith!” Hunk nearly jumps out of his own skin and turns quickly around, but thankfully not taking the hot iron with him. He keeps a steady, well-practiced hand on it. “Are you trying to _kill_ me?! A-announce yourself next time or something....”

Keith chuckles and pushes himself from the post and rounds Hunk’s work station. He stands off to the side, looking straight down the workbench into the mouth of the kiln. The blazing heat radiates powerfully and he squints a little as his eyes already begin to feel dry.

“What are you doing here so early, anyway?” Hunk asks while he continues working, carefully considering the malleable iron on the anvil. “Sir Shirogane actually let you leave before sundown?”

“It was a special occasion,” Keith says a bit reservedly. His eyes avoid Hunk’s when he suddenly looks up from his work in surprise.

Keith isn’t certain if Hunk notices his odd behavior, but Hunk also doesn’t comment on it. Instead, he lets out a quick laugh and turns forward. His shoulders pinch together as he lifts the heavy iron once again and plunges it into the small inferno. The orange light glows brilliantly on his skin, highlighting the small beads of sweat that pepper it. Those arms have carried hundreds of swords, but will never be allowed to swing one under any lord, any colors. He will not be permitted to serve the king under oath of knighthood. Keith never allows himself to forget this fact and it darkens his features, weighing in his heart like a heavy sickness.

Hunk’s eyes dart quickly to Keith once, then twice, then his eyebrow quirks.

Yeah, he’s definitely noticed now.

“You’re doing it again, Keith,” he says while pulling the freshly glowing metal out of its searing torture. “Tell me what’s wrong and I’ll see what I can do.” He slams it onto the anvil and hammers it with a force that startles Keith. With such a gentle demeanor, it’s always a shock to anyone seeing Hunk strike with such raw, powerful strength. Keith jumps ever so slightly then immediately composes himself, some embarrassed heat rising to his face, and clears his throat. He forces himself to ignore the fluttering of his heart.

“No, it’s, ah,” Keith starts but really doesn’t know what he can say. Of course Hunk would offer to help without even knowing what the problem is. He’s done it their whole lives in a friendship that not only turns heads but turns up noses. Their daily play dates were cut short as soon as Keith had his 10th Name Day. Of course, that didn’t stop either of them from seeing each other. Not when Hunk had a knack for climbing walls, sneaking into Lord Kogane’s keep to play make-believe with his friend until they were caught. Lance was just as guilty. And the three of them together caused a hell of a lot of trouble. They were scolded more times than any of them could count. Now Keith simply lets his gaze fall to his hands, slowly lifting the parchment up. “Shiro gave me this today.”

Hunk turns fully toward Keith and sets his equipment down. He grabs the parchment that Keith has extended. For a moment he opens it and quirks his eyebrow again. “From the fancy looking, loopy things, I’m guessing this is important?”

Keith can’t help but roll his eyes. “I wasn’t giving it to you to _read_ , Hunk. Look at the seal!”

Hunk does so and his eyes widen beyond imagination. Instantly, he lunges at Keith, wrapping his large arms around him and hoisting him up into the air. He’s laughing, practically yelling as he twirls Keith around.

 “You did it! You’re approved!” Hunk laughs some more and stops spinning. He gives another strong squeeze, successfully depleting Keith of any air that remains in his lungs. He hears Keith’s small wheeze and sets him down gently, keeping his gloved hands on Keith’s shoulders.  “You’re going to be a knight!”

“Calm down, calm down,” Keith can’t help but laugh a bit sheepishly. He pats one of Hunk’s hands that are clamped onto him. “It’s just _training_ to become a knight.”

“A knight!” Hunk repeats, shaking Keith and grinning broadly. “This is what we’ve always dreamed!”

It is at these words that Keith’s eyes widen, mouth parting slightly in a small gasp.

Hunk notices it instantly this time. His own expression falters and his eyebrows knit. Keith feels Hunk’s hands tighten on his shoulders, foretelling a sudden shift in mood. “Keith,” Hunk’s voice is soft but stern, and leading, as if the unspoken sentence may not be needed. But he says it anyway. “We've  _talked_ about this.”

Keith can’t stop his fists from clenching; a wave of frustration sends a shiver up his spine. His eyes narrow and he can no longer look at Hunk. He glances down at the ground, lips pursed in a practically childish pout. “It’s unfair…”

“Augh, _Keith._ ” Hunk’s voice morphs into incredulousness as his hands leave Keith’s shoulders. He turns sharply back to the kiln.

“Well, isn’t it?!” Keith protests. He watches Hunk grab the hot iron again and jab it into the orange glow; jaw set. He knows when Hunk is done with a conversation, but he cannot and will not leave it at that. He moves in closer, rounding the kiln a little more so he knows Hunk can see him in his peripheral.

“You are more capable than any man I’ve ever met! I’ve seen you with a sword. You’d put all other squires to shame.” His arms extend out to his sides as he protests further. “Hell, you’d put _Sir Shirogane_ to shame _._ ”

Hunk’s mouth twitches as he pulls the iron out and lays it on the anvil again. He reaches over, grabs his hammer and sighs. He takes a good moment to pause before he speaks slowly, plainly. “Keith, it’s not as easy as some sort of audition. The code clearly states—”

“The code is outdated and a bunch of fluff,” Keith cuts him off, stepping forward. “You wouldn’t believe some of the foolish things they write down.” He can feel the heat rising directly from the hot iron. His own face is warm already, slowly rising with his anger.

“Rules are rules,” Hunk simply says as he raises the hammer above his head.

“ _Damn_ the rules. The rules are _wrong!”_ Keith’s voice booms over the impact of the hammer. The sparks that fly out add a powerful flare to his words.

Then he waits; his heavy heart pounding wildly in his chest, watching Hunk continue his work. There is enough time to pass that Keith’s anger simmers down and by the time Hunk looks at him again he is overtaken by an entirely new emotion.

“I’m sorry,” he says quietly. He never likes lashing out, especially in front of Hunk. Hunk is his best friend, and moreover, the one person who has never, ever lost faith in him no matter how lost he’d gotten. Like Shiro, Hunk has done so much for Keith. He still does so much, everyday. His shoulders slope, deflating his posture much like his deflating anger.

“You know, you’re going to make me blush spouting those compliments all the time,” Hunk says suddenly and Keith blinks owlishly, thoughts derailed. The smile Hunk gives him instantly warms his heart and he can’t help but tilt his head back and laugh. He slugs Hunk in the arm, hard, and he knows it probably stings his fist more than Hunk’s bicep.

"Shut up," Keith tries to ignore the damning blush that reddens his cheeks and ears.

After that, there is no more talk of the code or Keith’s summons to training. That’s how their friendship has always worked. Even when things were at their worst, Hunk finds a way to make Keith see the silver lining. Or at least, he finds a way to make him smile. Keith stands off to the side and practices some sword swings with a wooden stick, feeling similar to those kids running in town, as Hunk finishes his work.

The sun is just about disappearing over the horizon and the sky blooms a brilliant orange and pink. The edges of the earth seem to turn a soft shade of purple. It’s always been Keith’s favorite time of day. He looks up at the stars that slowly appear in the dark. He finds himself frowning when a patch of clouds crawl away and unleash the moon's brilliant light.

“I’m feeding you,” Hunk says just as he finishes cleaning up his workspace. He’s already walking toward the front door before Keith has time to say anything. But it’s not like he was going to protest. He’d never. Hunk isn’t only known for being the village smithy. The man’s a genius with food.

::

Hunk enjoys cooking for Keith, always has. Ever since they were really young, Keith hasn’t had too many people in his life that actually give a damn about him beyond his father's name. Hunk makes sure Keith knows he does give a damn, many damns in fact.

“How does stew sound?” he asks as he washes his hands (and upper arms) in the tub of water he’d fetched before working. His line of work always leaves him grimy and sooty, not to mention his hands are calloused to stone. He doesn’t think he’ll ever have hands that feel like skin again. He looks over his shoulder, glancing at Keith who shrugs off his cloak that hides his vibrant squire tunic.

“It sounds like food which I will happily indulge in because otherwise I would be having mostly-moldy bread and sour wine.” Keith responds.

To that, Hunk chuckles lightheartedly. “You know you _can_ ask for fruits and things, right? Or better yet, order the dining hall to prepare you something edible,” he says as he kneels down and grabs his supplies. “That’s what having wealth means.”

Keith simply makes a noncommittal noise and Hunk rolls his eyes. Despite Keith’s lineage, he’s hardly ever abused the benefits that come along with it. He often patches his tunics instead of buying new ones; rarely eats the food provided by the keep’s kitchen; and spends his gold allowance on medicine for the village folk. When Lord Kogane had been alive, he often scolded Keith for exhibiting behavior so unbecoming of a noble, which Keith would always have something to say back. Hunk can’t count the number of times he opened his door to Keith, red eyed and harried, allowing him to spend the night after a particularly heated argument.

Hunk prepares the stew without saying much. He doesn’t have to, not with Keith. They both see the value in spending quiet time together, and after the news Keith just broke to him, Hunk knows it’s the right option.

He’s happy for Keith. Delighted. Keith has wanted to become a knight for as long as he can remember and then some. And now he’s just a few months training away from being anointed. He’s a skilled fighter and a cunning thinker, so there’s no doubt in Hunk’s mind that it wont take much longer than that. He can’t think of anyone more qualified to serve under King Alfor. Sir Keith Kogane, son of the late Lord William Kogane, Knight of the Castle of Lions has a really nice ring to it. Hunk smiles to himself at the thought, giddy again as he cracks some flint together to get a fire going under the stew pot.

“Et voila.” Hunk eventually places a bowl down in front of Keith, steam rising like billowy cirrus clouds that ghost Keith’s face as he leans down to smell it.

“I don’t know how you do it,” Keith says with a smile as he grabs the spoon Hunk offers him. He watches Hunk pull up a chair too and sits across from him at the small table. It’s a small thing, made for one, which it usually only supports since Hunk has lived on his own for years now. Ever since his family…

Keith stirs the stew a little, blowing on it softly when he lifts the spoon to his mouth.

“I add spices,” Hunk says when Keith hums in delicious bliss when he eats his first spoonful. Hunk smiles, adding, “Something cooks desperately need to learn about.”

“Salt is a spice isn’t it?” Keith asks innocently, taking another hungry, big spoonful and his eyes water only a little bit as it kind of scolds the inside of his mouth.

“Used exclusively? No, my friend, that’s just a crime.” Hunk digs into his own bowl and the two of them chat endlessly as dusk steadily ends and turns to night.

Later than either of them care to admit, they sit together around the hearth and Keith lifts a metal rod and stokes it a few times, sending dancing sparks this way and that. Hunk stretches out next to him, groaning and sighing as the hard work of the day no doubt begins weighing heavily on his body. Keith, for not the first or last time in his life, secretly glances over at Hunk. Out of the three of them, puberty definitely hit Hunk the strongest. His shoulders broadened and his height practically doubled, not to mention years of blacksmith apprenticeship carving his muscles like fine marble. Yet, there’s softness to Hunk too—literally and figuratively. Keith doesn’t know anyone else who can go from hardened badass to crying, nervous wreck with such… _grace_. Keith remembers the first time he bled in front of him. He’d gotten into a quarrel with one of the other squires and it turned rather sour. The look on Hunk’s face when Keith showed up at his door with a glistening, reddened smile and swollen eye was almost enough to make Keith regret it. Almost. He smiles a little now at the memory and Hunk looks over at him just at that moment.

“What’s that look for?” he asks slyly with a grin of his own.

“Won’t you miss this?” Keith responds and his own heart clenches in surprise, not necessarily expecting that comment from himself. But it’s out there now and it thickens the air between them as they sit in the quiet popping and cracking of the hearth. “I’m going to have to move to the capital.”

Hunk regards him carefully for a while and the way the warm light of the fire reflects in his caramel eyes _is_ enough to make Keith want to forget it all. Forget his silly dream. Forget serving the king. His heart aches a little with nostalgia or with something else entirely, he isn’t sure. But it’s strong.

“Wait here,” Hunk suddenly says as he stands, he extends his hand out in a placating gesture as he passes Keith and leaves the room. Keith’s gaze follows him until he disappears and then lets out a deep, heavy sigh. His palm flattens against the warm furs and blankets Hunk laid out for them. They did this all the time when they were younger; built forts of comfort and warmth as they spent nights talking about God-knows-what. When Lance left for the royal army, it was just the two of them left. And now it will be only Hunk.

Keith’s distant gaze is trained on the mesmerizing movements of the flames when he hears Hunk’s heavy footfalls slowly returning. He quirks an inquisitive eyebrow when he hears a loud _thunk_ and subsequent curse.

“Close your eyes,” he then hears Hunk say from just beyond the threshold.

“What?”

“Don’t question me, just do it!” Hunk says more firmly to which Keith sighs dejectedly.

“All right, _fine_. They’re closed.”

“Promise?”

“Hunk!”

“Okay, okay,” Hunk laughs as he enters the room again. Keith feels Hunk settle down next to him on the floor once more, shifting and adjusting until he seems satisfied. “Open!”

Keith does so, slowly and maybe with a bit of worry. He’s never been one for surprises. But his expression instantly softens, eyes widening and air escaping his lungs as he looks down at the sheathed sword in Hunk’s hands. The leather work on the ends of the sheath is intricate to the point of decoration. The grip and cross guard shine like black glass, and the pommel is a deep red, probably some sort of carved stone that Keith can’t identify. He looks back up at Hunk, lips forming a question but Hunk speaks before him.

“I’ve been working on this bad boy for a while,” he grins proudly as he lifts the sword up with both hands, offering it over to Keith in a quasi-ceremonial fashion. “I knew you’d eventually be summoned, so I made sure to have it ready.”

“I can’t…” Keith instantly stops his rejection as soon as Hunk gives him a stern look. He sighs again, but a smile begins to stretch his lips as he gingerly wraps his fist around the hilt. Hunk smiles too, shifting the position of the sword so Keith can unsheathe it with ease.

The metal is polished perfect, glinting in the firelight. In its entirety, the weapon is balanced and sturdy, not to mention almost impossibly light. Keith eyes it carefully, taking in the details that only Hunk’s handiwork could pull off. He gasps, much to his embarrassment, and his heart clenches tightly in his chest when the light catches the small detail near the base of the sword, at the rain guard. In the metal itself, lies a perfectly carved sun, stylized in the same way that Keith remembers so vividly from his childhood. His eyes burn with threatening tears; the tightness in his throat grows. His mouth twitches.

“Do you like it?” Hunk asks in a soft, barely there voice. Keith looks up to meet his gaze once more, and he can’t find anything to say. Nothing seems right. His brows furrow and his lips flatten into a thin line, fighting back the surge of emotions that threaten to bubble over. 

Given that words escape him, Keith decides a different approach. He takes the sheath from Hunk’s grip, slipping the sword back into it with practiced ease, and gently places it to the side. His heart steadily beats faster and faster and his hands quiver ever so slightly. Hunk watches him move in silence, shadows dancing across his face as the fire in the hearth continues to offer its orange glow. Keith shifts closer; gaze dropping momentarily to Hunk’s softly parted lips. Keith’s cheeks begin to bloom with warmth of his own. His shaking hand finds Hunk’s, placing it gently over his knuckles as he leans in close enough that their foreheads touch.

“It’s perfect,” Keith breathes after another moment’s pause, finally lifting his gaze to Hunk’s. “Hunk I w—”

Two loud, imposing knocks on the door to Hunk’s abode shatter the glass bubble around them. They wait a moment, staring at each other in silent conversation but it can’t last, not when the all-too-familiar voice calls out from behind the door.

“Young Lord! Your mother has summoned you back to the keep.”

Keith’s eyes close as he leans away from Hunk, sitting back on down the furs and sighing in frustration. Before he has time to say anything else, Hunk is already standing and making his way to the entrance. Keith watches him, expression fighting to not look so desperate, and as soon as he hears the door open he frowns and stands up in silence.

“Apologies for the late hour,” Kolivan stands even higher than Hunk, donning the armor of the Kogane keep’s guard; silver plates and purple cloths, a cloak draped elegantly over one shoulder. His hand rests on his sword and his eyes scan the inside of Hunk’s place until they land on Keith. “But I have orders from My Lady.”

Hunk gives him a friendly smile and steps off to the side, turning his attention toward Keith who’s already draping his own cloak around his shoulders. “I don’t appreciate being _collected_ ,” Keith says flatly as he strides past them both and exits the building, his gaze does not meet Hunk’s.

Hunk and Kolivan exchange glances at each other and with a small bow from the general, he makes his exit as well. Hunk watches them walk away and after a few moments, he lifts his hand to his chest, resting it against his fluttering heart as he lets out a shaky breath.

::

Keith stomps many paces in front of his escort, hands balled into tight fists as he brushes past the courtiers who greet him. He looks up at the tallest column of the manor, a soft yellow light flickers in his mother’s chambers and he narrows his gaze on it. But before he can stomp his way toward that too a hand stops him, gripping his elbow tightly.

“Let go of—”

 “She didn’t mean anything by it.” Much to his surprise, Keith turns and meets Shiro’s unwavering gaze, a soft smile resting on his features. Keith’s tense shoulders relax almost instantly, anger simmering to a less urgent flare. “She just worries about you when you're out there.”

“S-sir,” Keith bows his head. “What are you…” he trails off, knowing it’s rude to ask questions of his superior. Not to mention Sir Shirogane has been a friend of the Kogane family for years; their families having a long history of alliance and marital ties. He’s almost as welcome to come and go as he pleases as any of the Koganes. It had originally been the late Lord Kogane’s idea for Shiro to take Keith under his wing; to ‘teach him proper.’ Though Lord William voiced his desires for it, there hadn’t been any plans for Keith to actually be knighted. That came later, obviously.

“Your mother invited me.” Keith frowns at that knowledge but for what seems like the hundredth time that day, he’s interrupted before he can speak.

“Young Lord, Sir Shirogane,” Kolivan steps closer to them, head bowed politely as he raises his hand, gesturing toward the entrance to the main hall. “Lady Kogane awaits your arrival.”

Keith simply clicks his tongue, walking past the guard general and leads them all toward the threshold, pushing the doors open himself before the servant has time to move. “Mother,” Keith calls out into the hall, voice echoing high against the banisters. Lady Kogane sits at the head of the table, chalice in hand as one of her handmaiden’s pours her wine. She smiles to the young girl, dismissing her in a soft voice.

Despite this gentle demeanor, the prowess of Krolia Kogane is anything but. Her role in the war was just as important as any Lord or high general. She has the scars to prove it. Upon the death of her husband, no one batted an eye as she took over the keep. In fact, many of the Kogane bannermen preferred it; having faith in her judgment and ability to uphold the keep.

She takes a calm drink from her chalice, eyes glancing at Keith over the rim as he rounds the table. “Keith,” she smiles as Keith shoos away a servant pulling a chair out for him. “It’s late.”

“And I’m no longer 12,” Keith answers and puts his hand over the top of the chalice in front of him, stopping yet another servant from doing their duty.

Krolia sighs and lifts her hand, “Leave us, please.” Her voice raises high in the room and the room clears save for General Kolivan and Sir Shirogane who keep their distance respectfully. Krolia patiently waits. Her gaze does not back away from her son’s. She raised him, she’s practically a professional at this kind of play now. “Did he find you at the blacksmith’s?” she asks.

Keith’s expression darkens, eyes finally flickering away from hers as he shifts in his seat. As much as he hates himself for it, a blush crawls across his face and neck once more. Krolia sighs again, though it isn’t out of anger or frustration—she’s simply tired.

“You know how dangerous it is to go wandering in the outer villages,” she starts slowly, carefully. She knows the delicacy of the topic. “The Kogane name isn’t universally loved in Alfor’s kingdom.”

“Yet you have no problem sending your general into the 'danger' to fetch me like a dog,” Keith mumbles and keeps his gaze down as he digs his nail into the softening wood of the ornate table. There are plenty of dents on the polished surface, many of which come from himself.

“The keep’s guard is mine to command,” Krolia replies simply. “I have every right.”

Keith pouts his lip, leg beginning to bounce as frustration slowly builds in his belly and chest, boiling and bubbling like the stew he had enjoyed not two hours prior.

“Look, Keith,” Lady Kogane’s voice suddenly softens, a hint of sadness fluttering amongst her words. “I know you aren’t a child anymore. And that’s exactly why I’m so strict with you. You can’t go off playing with commoners as you like. I know they’re your friends, but the world isn’t as simple as it once was.” She pauses a moment. “Your summons has been a long time coming—”

“You know about that?” Keith’s head shoots up with widened eyes that dart quickly over to Shiro who simply gives him an apologetic smile.

“Keith, this is wonderful news!” Krolia reaches over and places her hand over Keith’s, squeezing it gently. “You’ve wanted to become a knight since you were child. I can’t count how many times I had to gift my handmaidens new dresses after you’d rip them up to create a house banner. You broke off of a table leg to use it for a joust.” She laughs in good humor at the memory, hand squeezing again before removing it. Keith follows her hand, eyes lifting until he meets his mother’s gaze again. “It’s finally your time.”

“What if I don’t want it anymore?” he asks after a pause, the silence following it is thick enough to suffocate.

“W-what?” Krolia’s brows tighten and her eyes narrow in the beginnings of anger. “What do you mean you don’t _want_ it? Sir Shirogane has gone to great lengths to secure your summons. You would have me believe that the very thing you’ve worked so hard to achieve; bled and sweat over, is something you suddenly don’t _want_ anymore?”

“The capital isn’t for me,” Keith lies. His heart aches in his chest and something sharp and painful stabs at his insides. “All the politics and mind games. I’d rather do my training here…b-become a part of the keep’s guard.”

“Apologies, My Lady,” Shiro’s voice suddenly disrupts the tension. The two look over as he slowly walks up, bowing before speaking again. “Perhaps now is an appropriate time to discuss…”

Keith looks between his mother and Shiro, expression taught in confusion as Lady Kogane nods permission for Shiro to proceed.

“A raven came earlier in the evening,” Shiro continues seriously, gaze turning to Keith. “King Alfor is ordering for my return to the capital immediately, and I don’t know when I’ll be back.”

The breath in Keith’s lungs feels heavy, his chest tightening. His body goes stiff, fiddling fingers pause their movements on the table’s surface. “What are you saying…”

“I’m sorry Keith,” Shiro says gently, true guilt hardening his eyes. “I know I said I’d give you time to think about your response. But I leave at sunrise.”

“I have to choose tonight?” Keith’s voice is soft; uncertainty and fear coat his tone as his wide eyes make him look years younger. Like he’s the same child staring up at the guard’s general the night they brought news of Lord William Kogane’s death.

Krolia frowns as her own heart aches for her only child; wishing she could change things for him. But she knows the extent of her power, and no amount of wealth or esteem can alter the King’s orders. “Keith, my love,” she waits for Keith to look at her before continuing. “I know it’s difficult. You’ve only ever known this life. You’d be leaving it all behind. But deep down, I know it’s what you were born to do. You deserve a better life than behind the walls of the keep.  Your father thought so, and I do too. Your talents and strength are much better suited for that of a knight, under King Alfor’s banner.”

“It’d be my honor to oversee your training,” Shiro adds, bowing deeply.

“If there’s anyone who deserves the esteem and privilege of anointed knighthood, it’s you kid,” Kolivan adds from his place near the entrance. He nods sharply.

Keith regards them all with wide eyes and parted lips; heart thudding in his chest hard enough to steal his breath. Images of his childhood flash in his mind’s eye. The memory of playing make-believe with his friends in vivid detail. The rush and thrill he’d always get whenever a band of honored individuals passed through still pricks his finger tips. He remembers the promise he made with Hunk, pinky fingers locked under the cherry tree just outside the keep’s walls.

“I…” Keith trails off as Hunk’s smiling visage scorches itself in his mind. “I accept.”

 

::

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> listen............ i dont think you realize just how much i love cock blocking keith. dont worry tho, that mature rating is there for a reason, my friends.
> 
> also no i didnt forget about the sword at the end there, keith did. lol


End file.
